Cup of Sorrow

A fountain lies across my way –
Made of fractured, lichened stone.
Drew I near to it today.
And stood there – nearby, all alone.
And from its mouth it bubbling drew
A water deep – delicious, dark
Of a strange-coloured tinge and hue.
Approaching close, a voice said: “Hark!
The guardian I, of this here spring
And fountain made of fractured stone.”
The mighty words my ears made ring.
“This weeping fountain will atone
For all the sins of this drear world.
But first you must this water sip
Mind not its colour, darkly-swirled
Around about its fountain lip
But deeply drink. If you would be
Transformed into a Son of Light.
If not – the darkness covers thee
And thou wilt fade into the Night.

I trembled. Stood awhile. A pause.
To drink? Or not? Was all my thought.
But holding to the highest cause
I stretched my hands, the waters caught –